


The Rule in War

by half_sleeping



Series: The Slowest Route to Victory [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2651324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_sleeping/pseuds/half_sleeping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is the rule in war, if ten times the enemy's strength, surround them; if five times, attack them; if double, be able to divide them; if equal, engage them; if fewer, be able to evade them; if weaker, be able to avoid them." - <i>The Art of War</i></p><p>Entwined with <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1825588">If Equal, Engage</a>. Hints of the concurrent AkaKuro and AoKaga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rule in War

As usual, Takao cycled the rickshaw up to the gate and pressed the bell exactly as Midorima opened the front door, which would have impressed the other boy if Takao hadn’t rung his bell madly to let Midorima know he had arrived in the first place.

“Amazing,” said Takao. “Never fails.”

Midorima tucked the family-size bottle of lotion under his arm and opened the gate. “You’re a little early,” he said.

“I made good time,” said Takao.

Midorima heaved the lotion into the back of the rickshaw and Takao made a noise of exaggerated effort as he kicked off. Midorima watched Takao’s shoulders heave under his jacket, noting that if Takao hunched over like that all the time, he was going to give himself neck strain.

“You’ll have to cycle home by yourself today,” Midorima informed him. “I’ll be leaving earlier than usual in order to keep an appointment.”  
“Sure,” said Takao. He deftly swung them wide around a corner, using the opportunity to flick a glance back at Midorima. “Do you need to get your glasses done again? I can take you if you want.”

“No. Akashi is back in Tokyo. He wants to meet up,” said Midorima.

Takao stopped pedalling, and the bicycle wheels clicked wildly in the relative silence of the cold still morning.

“You’ve stopped pedalling,” said Midorima. Amazing. Something that could shut Takao’s mouth.

Takao started up again. “Woah,” he said.

“Is it so unexpected?” inquired Midorima.

“Uhhhh,” said Takao. “I pass on that question. I guess I’ll just take the bus home, then.”

“As you wish,” said Midorima.

They continued on in silence for a few blessed minutes of further silence until Takao ventured, “Shin-chan… what are you guys going to… _do_?”

Midorima looked at the back of Takao’s head. “Catch up, I presume,” he said. “Though since we only just recently saw each other, I imagine we won’t have much to say to each other.”

Takao mulled over this. “-Wait, do you mean the Winter Cup?” he said, laughing. “That’s not a meeting, you know.”

“We saw each other,” said Midorima. “And we fought against each other. That really does encompass the majority of our interactions.”

“Basketball is not war,” said Takao. He had turned his head into the breeze, and was talking brightly, airily, the shade of his laugh edging his words. “Man, I don’t even know what you guys have to talk about.”

.0.

Takao, thought Midorima without rancour, was typically mistaken. As usual, aside from the obligatory small talk, quickly dispensed with, his and Akashi’s conversation had spanned a wide and interesting range of subjects, topics they had picked up and discussed years before, months ago, or never, flowing between them with ease. The emotional familiarity and intellectual stimulation, Midorima found, still existed where once he had thought an ice-eyed and utterly humorless persona had erased his friend forever.

It was almost enough to make Midorima fail to recall the many and myriad reasons Akashi ranked highly among the most irritating individuals of his acquaintance.

“My game, Midorima,” said Akashi, setting his piece down.

Midorima glared at him. “Not yet,” he corrected.

“We’ll play the moves out for… three more turns,” agreed Akashi, with a hint of smile. “If you wish.”

Faced with such deliberate provocation, Midorima resorted to a bit of unbecoming subterfuge of his own. “Surely if the events of the past year have taught you nothing else, Akashi, they have taught you that you are not infallible.”

The shaft went wide. Akashi’s smile didn’t waver, the light dancing in his eyes. “You cannot so quickly have forgotten, Midorima,” he said. “I adapt quickly to circumstance. Something _you_ should know very well.”

Midorima placed his piece and then, too late, saw the trap. Akashi wordlessly lifted his hand to play his piece, but Midorima cleared his throat before Akashi could have the satisfaction.

“I concede,” he said.

“As you wish,” agreed Akashi. “Another, or must you be going?”

“I have time,” said Midorima. “Takao has not yet reached the point of outright begging to borrow my note set, so his revision must be going well. If it had been later in the week, of course, I might not have had the time. Much depends on his continued academic performance.”

As Midorima reset the board, Akashi considered him. He leaned his arm on the table and his face in his arm, unusually for Akashi.

“So no progress?” said Akashi, his head slightly, very slightly, out of kilter.

Midorima narrowed his eyes at Akashi. “If you mean in our training, I assure you that, in fact, there has been a great deal of progress. I have devised several schedules derived from personal experience for his use, and moving forward, we are looking into improving our partnership and compatibility on the court to achieve greater results and victory in the upcoming tournament year.”

“So, no progress,” said Akashi. Midorima forbore to answer this comment, instead gesturing to the board for Akashi to take his turn.

Which he did not do.

“I saw Tetsuya this morning,” said Akashi, his intent gaze still on Midorima’s face. “He seemed well. Early hours do not suit him very well.”

“What,” said Midorima.

“Kuroko,” said Akashi, without turning a hair. “I saw him this morning at the Aida Gym.”

“You said Tetsuya,” said Midorima. Akashi was almost, but not quite, avoiding his eyes.

“No I didn’t,” said Akashi, just a touch too quickly.

“Yes, you did,” said Midorima.

Akashi’s eyes did not even flicker. “Perhaps I misspoke,” he said, smoothly.

“Misspoke?” said Midorima, his voice incredulous.

“Perhaps, Shintarou,” said Akashi, in a meaningful voice that could not have been said to express emotion in any way. Midorima, however, had been hearing Akashi use that particular tone to depress arguments and pretensions since before their voices had broken, and was inured to its effect.

“Why?” said Midorima, searching Akashi’s face for an answer he knew would never be forthcoming.

“Progress,” said Akashi, and turning his gaze to the board, said, “Shall we begin?”

.0.

“If you are not going to be serious about this,” said Midorima severely, “we might as well stop right here.”

“And have a double suicide,” said Takao immediately. “Shin-chan, I read you loud and clear.”

“At this time of year?” said Midorima shortly. “Go through these pages next. Miyaji-sempai told me that Nakatani-sensei favours taking passages relating to international affairs, and these example passages will give you a grounding in what you can expect in the exam.”

Takao sighed out his yes, and took down Midorima’s word in his clean slanting hand, in a haphazard way which left Midorima wondering if Takao had developed any organized system of note-taking at all. He had, to Midorima’s slight annoyance, stolen yet more of Midorima’s stationary: even though Takao had a full and properly stocked pencil case of his own, the blue pen Takao was using now was one of his, picked casually off the table and put into service between bouts of actual writing as a distraction. He held it between his clever fingers and played with it endlessly while his mind was busy somewhere else. It was not that Midorima grudged Takao the pen, or that the other boy could not have had it for the asking. But it did irritate him that half of Takao’s notes were in blue, and the other in black.

Shuutoku had an abundance of small old rooms, designated for use usually by clubs but which in exam season lay unused. Since neither of their homes was conducive for studying, the library was taken over by third-years, and Takao was too easily distracted by fast food restaurants and cafes, Midorima had utilized his sterling reputation to borrow a key to one of the rooms for the quiet, private spot.

Takao had tipped over to lay his head on the table, and as he looked up at Midorima the taller boy wondered if it was fatigue or his drooping lashes that made Takao look so blurred and inscrutable, his normally sharp eyes soft and wondering. He was smiling a little, a very little, up at Midorima, at some joke that Midorima did feel was incumbent on him to ask Takao to share. In order to have access to all available table space Midorima had pulled his chair in close and he could feel Takao’s foot touching his, not jittery and irritating as Takao usually was, but relaxed and present.

“How was it?” he said.

“What?” said Midorima, wondering how Takao saw anything with all that hair falling into his eyes, all the time.

“Akashi,” said Takao. “Was it fun?”

“Not in the least,” said Midorima.

“I’m glad you had fun, Shin-chan,” said Takao. “Did you guys actually talk about anything?”

“He asked after our progress,” said Midorima. “In, I will add, the most offensive way.”

Takao peered at Midorima’s face. “What did he say?”

“I told him we were improving commensurately,” said Midorima. He put his pen back to the paper, signalling the conversation was at a close. “Pay no attention to his snide remarks, Takao.”

“You were the one who just told me about them,” said Takao, sitting up and pouting. “And you won't even tell me what the comments are!”

“You asked,” said Midorima.

Takao collapsed back onto the table and looked thoughtfully at Midorima’s pen, lying in front of his face. He was not looking at Midorima when he said, his voice low, “I just thought, if he happened to say anything useful… though admittedly you don’t seem to think anything he says is useful… I could learn from it. Him.”

Midorima stared at him. “You want to?” he said. This seemed crazy to him.

“I could pick up some things from Akashi Seijuurou,” admitted Takao, his eyes shrunken to slits as he squinted at Midorima’s pen. “I mean, he didn’t really… pass before now. Wait, he did, but- I mean, before the finals, I never saw him play like that. He didn’t do it against us, either.”

“You want to play like Akashi?” said Midorima, staring at Takao.

“It would be nice,” he said. “I mean, I know I'm no Akashi, but someday-” he quirked a small, shy smile. “Someday I’d like to be the pg who brings you into the Zone.” He punched Midorima in the arm. “Geeze, look at you. Making a boy say something like that.”

Midorima opened his mouth, then closed it. “I don’t want to go into the Zone,” was all he could think of to say. That was not a way he had ever thought of playing, ever thought of wanting to: abandoning thought and teammates.

“Shin-chan, I think only of what’s best for you,” said Takao mock-seriously, unsteady laughter edging his voice. It was the same tone that Takao had used two days ago, and now Midorima heard it for what it was: a forced and brittle edge, the tone of Takao’s laugh wavering sour.

They resumed their revision, but Midorima could not help lingering on that discordant note, which had been prompted by- what?

When the message from Kuroko came in, flashing demurely on his screen, Midorima replied in the affirmatory, adding _Can I bring Takao too?_

 _Please do_ , replied Kuroko. _Akashi-kun might appreciate it_.

Midorima stared hard at that sentence, refusing to examine it for Kuroko’s motivation. He had no desire to know.

.0.

“Shin-chan, where are we _go-ing_ ,” whined Takao, dragging his feet. “Why did you want me to wear my basketball shoes? Why won’t you look at me? Why are you ignoring me? Do you understand we’re missing our precious study time? Shin-channnnn!”

“We’re here, you idiot,” Midorima said.

Takao slowly turned in a full circle. “A street ball court,” he said. “You know we had a perfectly good indoor one back at school, right? I mean, it’d be about this cold, rundown, and drafty, but at least we’d have a roof over our heads.”

“Typical,” said Midorima, paying no attention to him. “We're the first to arrive, of course.”

“Nope!” sang out Momoi, right behind him.

Midorima jumped, and turned around to glare at Momoi. Behind her Aomine was saying into his phone, “What do you mean you can’t see it, it’s the _streetball court_ , I thought you said you came to this place every week- there you are, just get over here.” He hung up and Kagami Taiga trotted up to them, putting his own phone away.

“Got you, Midorin!” Momoi said, beaming brightly.

Takao laughed at the disgruntled look on Midorima’s face. “Momoi-chan, you’re beautiful,” he said, putting his hand on his heart.

“Takao-kun, I’m so glad that you came!” Momoi said. “Kagamin, you too!”

“Yes!” Takao said. “Though what am I actually here for?”

Aomine threw himself onto the bench at the side and yawned. “Yeah, who the hell knows,” he deadpanned. His sardonic gaze took in the basketball court, full of basketball players, and the basketball Kagami had pulled out of his bag. “Could be anything.”

Momoi glared at him. “Dai-chan, you have mud on your sneakers,” she said, in a sweet and terrible voice.

Aomine immediately raised his foot to assure himself that Momoi had only said it to hurt him. “No I don’t,” he said, once he had checked. But he kept checking, just to make sure. Aomine’s obsession was ridiculous.

Kagami, now leaning on the backrest of the bench that Aomine was sitting on, shook his head slowly, eyes lingering on Aomine’s head as the other boy bent it over his sneakers.

Takao fidgeted with his hands stuck in his pockets. “Only us?” he said, to Momoi.

“Well Kichan had some kind of makeup study, and couldn’t make it,” said Momoi. "So he couldn't come, but he's very sad about it!"

"Fucking great," grumbled Aomine, finally putting his foot down. "Now how are we going to do this with uneven sides? Does Tetsu only count for half? Are you going to count for half? I mean, I know Kagami here only counts for half-”

“Oi,” said Kagami, waking from his reverie.

“But you got so worked up over getting me down here, both of you-” Aomine complained, beginning to reach his stride.

“Halves would leave us uneven, Aomine-kun,” came Kuroko’s voice, out of the darkness. “We wouldn’t want that.”

Midorima had already anticipated Kuroko’s arrival, and allowed himself a twinge of satisfaction to see Kagami, Momoi and Aomine jump in surprise. He would have thought that they, of all people, would know better. Takao did not, but he was already looking past Kuroko, and his face, looking at Akashi, was drawn in long lines of surprise. Midorima took off his jacket and began folding it neatly.

"Tetsu-kun! _Akashi-kun_!" cried Momoi, as though she was surprised. Aomine raised his shoulders from the bench, and flashed a quick hot look of surprise at Kuroko. Kagami didn’t look surprised to see Akashi following Kuroko, but he followed the line of Aomine’s glance with the quiet attention of an animal.

Akashi smiled, and said, “Hello.”

“Akashi,” said Midorima in greeting.

“Midorima,” returned Akashi.

“Oh, _my god_ ,” said Takao, and clutched the back of Midorima’s shirt, which would have sadly wrinkled it if it wasn’t already the end of the day. “Akashi! Akashi Seijuuro! Shin-chan, I don’t think I can do this. Leave me here. Go alone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Midorima, though it did seem to him ridiculous that Akashi was here with them, in the cold on a crumbling outdoor court, and looking at them, at Kuroko, with something in his eyes approaching warmth. Akashi’s speaking looks, of course, were familiar and as intrusive as ever.

“Why did you bring me,” moaned Takao, over-dramatically. “What did I ever do to you?”

Aomine raised his voice, calling them back in. “Three-on-three?” he said. “How long’ve we got?”

Kuroko looked at his watch. “Do you need to go home tonight?” he said, which was typical of him. Aomine laughed in reply, and Midorima sighed at how typical of him _that_ was, how long unheard, how familiar.

“ _I_ need to go home tonight,” Midorima said.

“My home’s pretty far from here,’ said Kagami, interpreting the discussion in a depressingly literal spirit.

“It was a figure of speech,” explained Kuroko patiently, ever-helpful. Kagami looked confused.

Akashi smiled at Midorima. Midorima eyed him suspiciously.

“So,” said Takao, once more in control of himself and with a glint in his eye that boded ill for the rest of them. “How’re we gonna split this up? Please say I don’t get red fish, blue fish here again, I’ve already had enough of that.” He considered. “Bags me not with Shin-chan, actually,” he said.

“Somehow I anticipated this,” said Midorima.

“I cannot tell a lie, I told you a lie,” said Takao, laughing. He took off his own jacket and began to fold up his shirtsleeves. “Come on, Shin-chan! Games like this don’t come around all the time.”

“Very well, then,” Midorima said. He looked right at Akashi. “‘Bags’ me not with you, either.”

Akashi turned his head deliberately away from Midorima and said to Takao, “That will be interesting, Takao-kun. Since we’re claiming teams, I believe I will venture to name Kuroko to ours.”

“Wait,” said Kagami, who had been arguing with Aomine over Kuroko’s shoes, of all things. “Wait no, _no, don’t do this to me_.”

Too late, Midorima saw it. Takao, Akashi and Kuroko on the same team meant that he was stuck with the two-thirds of the idiot brigade. Which he _refused_ to be.

“Why only two-thirds?” said Takao innocently. Midorima glared at him.

“Hey!” said Kagami.

“We don’t want to be on a team with you either,” snapped Aomine. He glared at Kuroko, who ignored him.

Kagami looked between Aomine and Kuroko, once again confused.

“You can choose again next game!” said Momoi. “I’m sure we have enough time for that!”

“Of course we can,” said Akashi smoothly, “but if Midorima is afraid of being outshone by Aomine or Kagami Taiga…”

“Juvenile taunts do not interest me,” said Midorima.

“Was I taunting you?” asked Akashi, opening his eyes wide, with Kuroko’s exact air of false candour. “I thought I was simply voicing a statement of fact.”

“Oooo,” heckled Takao and Aomine in unison. They glanced at each other, surprised but united in their mockery of him. Typical.

“We will trade Kagami for Kuroko,” said Midorima. He adjusted his glasses, thinking furiously. At least Kuroko would not get in the way.

“Ok, I’m for this too,” said Aomine. “Tetsu, get over here.”

“Excellent,” said Akashi, unexpectedly. The look Kuroko threw him did not bode well for their cozy atmosphere. Midorima was well aware that Kuroko was capable of harbouring childish grudges for months, if not years. “Momoi-san, if will you start us off?”

“Yes!” she said, still smiling happily at them. “Let’s do it.”

.0.

The streetball broke up some hours later, later than was really ideal, and as they drifted towards the train station Midorima let his opinion of such reckless behaviour be known.

“ _Some_ of us,” said Midorima falling in unconsciously with Akashi, “have school tomorrow.”

“As you’ve repeated, ad nauseum,” said Akashi, who had obviously enjoyed himself, and had been the one most reluctant to leave. “As it happens, I am already accustomed to early rising. It’s the only time to catch Kuroko before his morning practice.”

Midorima processed this information, he thought, quite calmly. “Progress?” he said, acidly.

Akashi narrowed his eyes at Midorima. “Progress,” he said. “Kuroko’s physical abilities have improved immensely. Aida-san is very perceptive and her judgement is sound.”

“If you work him too hard,” Midorima pointed out, “you know he won’t be able to take it.” But that was Akashi all over, and Kuroko: Kuroko would move the world just because Akashi wondered if it was possible, and because it was Akashi, who could.

Akashi glanced up at Midorima. “You are really not one to talk, Midorima,” he said, allowing irritation to touch his voice. He was looking at Takao, who was laughing at something Aomine and Kagami were doing or saying, or possibly just at Aomine and Kagami. Takao ended the laugh on a yawn fit to split his face. Midorima would make sure to see him on the right train, and hope that he did not fall asleep on the seats.

Midorima disengaged from the conversation to find that Kuroko had led them, like a homing pigeon, to a convenience store.

“Really?” said Midorima to Kuroko. “Really, Kuroko?”

Kuroko ignored him, pushing the door open and inviting everyone else in.

Midorima decided he would get an ice cream as well- after the evening he’d just had, he certainly deserved one. While the others crowded around the freezer to obtain their treats, Midorima followed Momoi to the drinks section, where she handed him the shiruko can without being asked. She was very happy, and kept looking out over all of them and beaming.

“This was Tetsu-kun’s idea,” she said. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were shining. “He thought since Akashi-kun came down to Tokyo so rarely nowadays, we could all spend some quality time together.”

“If that’s what you call it,” said Midorima.

Momoi laughed, and touched his arm, just a brief short squeeze. “It’s nice to do this again,” she said. “Is that all you’re going to have, Midorin?”

“No,” said Midorima. “I’ll take an ice cream as well.”

“Should I get that for you?” she twinkled up at him.

“No,” said Midorima. He felt himself smiling at her, too. Tonight had not entirely been a waste of time. “I’ll fetch it myself.”

Since Aomine and Kagami had hogged the space at the front of the cooler, Akashi, Takao and Kuroko had yet to make their choices, but at least there was more room now that the two idiots had removed themselves, jostling each other for counter space to pay, their shoulders knocking together. Midorima craned his head to look at the selection.

“We shouldn’t be eating frozen things in this weather,” he said, more to make a point to Kuroko than anything else. He spotted his favourite brand and flavour and rummaged for it, leveraging his superior arm length to _quickly_ choose his ice cream and leave.

“Hey, Shin-chan,” wheedled Takao, picking up his choice, apparently at random. He pouted wheedlingly at Midorima, and held out the ice cream.

“No,” said Midorima, and went to pay.

“This really is a cheap date,” said Takao over his shoulder, following Midorima to the register.

“It’s the thought that counts,” said Akashi peacefully.

“Some of us,” murmured Kuroko, “with more thoughts than others.” Takao stifled a laugh, tucking himself in close to Midorima’s back to get a look at his purchases.

“Were they always like this?” Takao asked, light dancing in his eyes.

“It was unbearable,” said Midorima, answering, or not answering, the question he really thought Takao was asking.

Takao leaned over Midorima’s arm and dropped his coins and his ice cream on the counter, mixing them in with Midorima’s purchases. Takao’s body was a little clumsy with tiredness, and his weight was heavy on Midorima’s arm. He looked up at Midorima looking down at him and smiled until his eyes crinkled, smiling too.

They paid and joined Kagami and Aomine outside the combini.

Akashi examined his ice cream, and Takao took it upon himself to say, “Open it from the-”

Akashi raised his eyebrow in a manner calculated to freeze the flesh off bone. “Takao-kun, please,” he said.

Takao laughed and subsided. Midorima recognized this as his cue to take Takao away before he embarrassed himself any further.

Takao continued to look as though he was vibrantly enjoying himself, despite the lateness of the hour and the behaviour of certain of their company. Midorima concentrated on eating and drinking at the same time, with the inevitable consequence that he spilled some red bean soup on his hand where he knew from long experience it would get sticky and disgusting when it dried, and needed to be cleaned off immediately. There was nothing else for it. Midorima raised his hand to his mouth and licked the offending trail off, tasting the salt of his skin under the sweetness of the drink.

Then he looked up.

Takao watched him, open-mouthed, dreamy-eyed, frozen in place for a single, exposed moment. Takao jerked his gaze away and looked at his hand and said, “Aw, man.” His own ice cream, unattended, had melted onto him as well.

“Mmh,” Midorima said. The look in Takao’s eyes murmured deep in Midorima’s chest, and maybe that was why he did what he did next; reaching out to wipe that drip off Takao’s hand before it could stain his sleeves or his shoes, brushing it away in one broad motion.

Takao had moved to jerk backwards when Midorima reached for him, but the touch of Midorima’s hand had stilled him, and now Takao stood there still frozen watching the trajectory of Midorima’s hand to his mouth until Midorima licked up that drip too, making a mental note to wash his hands at the train station’s bathroom.

“Shin-chan,” said Takao, pressing the back of his forearm to his forehead, obscuring his face. “You’re surprisingly manly.”

Since this did not seem to invite a response, Midorima tucked his thumb away in his hand, and finished his ice cream. Takao, turning red, stuffed the remains of his cone into his mouth and chewed frantically, not looking at Midorima. The red spread down his neck and his cheeks bulged unattractively.

“I can’t believe you wiped your spit on me,” he said, once he’d swallowed all that and regained what little control he could muster over his face. He held up his hand between them and stared mournfully at the affected area. His fingers curled a little over it, protectively.

“Deal with it,” said Midorima shortly.

Takao looked up at him, _up_ , because they had somehow drifted to be standing very close together, and his eyes were sharp, and dark, tracing the line from Midorima’s forehead to his nose and chin, avoiding his eyes.

“How did I taste?” he said, quietly.

“Like ice cream,” said Midorima. He averted his gaze, suddenly embarrassed.

Akashi and Kuroko had stayed talking quietly to each other. Kuroko had his chin up, and a more standard than usual expression on his face. He’d gotten what he wanted for Akashi, Midorima presumed. And as for Akashi, Akashi always got what he wanted. Takao followed his gaze, and then looked back at Midorima, blurred and inscrutable, the air between them tasting still, and ever so faintly, sweet.

Takao stepped away from Midorima. He walked to the nearby trash bin, calling everyone else’s attention with a loud, “It’s really late, huh?” Takao looked at Midorima, smiling a little, very faintly. “We should be getting home.”

.0.

Given the lateness of the hour at which they had all returned home, Midorima did not expect to be and was not picked up by Takao as usual, but to also not encounter him at the gates, in the corridor or at lunch was rather out of the ordinary. Midorima had not known how to follow up the conversation, and when Takao had insisted that he would go home himself, Midorima had been unable to invent an excuse to override him. Instead Midorima had changed trains with Aomine and Kagami, watching Kagami and Momoi both drowsily droop onto Aomine’s shoulders.

Just because Takao was acting in an awkward manner, just because- Midorima felt his cheeks heat- of last night, with all its attendant consequences, didn’t mean-

Didn’t mean, what?

.0.

After school Midorima dropped by Takao’s classroom intent on speaking to him, where he was treated to what was almost certainly Takao throwing himself out the window on the other side of the classroom to hide out on the balcony.

“Takao’s… not… here,” said the unfortunate classmate closest to the door. Midorima was certainly- fairly certain- that he was in the basketball club with them, and that it would therefore be rude to ask what his name was.

“Really,” said Midorima.

Takao’s classmate carefully did not let his gaze drift to either side.

“That’s a shame,” said Midorima. He held out his hand, and said, “Pass me his school bag, then. I’ll wait for him in the usual study room first.”

“Uh,” said Takao’s classmate, who to his credit maintained a very reputable poker face. “Uhhh.”

Midorima lifted an eyebrow. “If it’s too much trouble, I’ll come fetch it myself,” he said, making to enter the classroom by the door. Takao’s desk was near the opposite side of the classroom, and if Midorima got close enough, he felt sure that he would see Takao, no matter how much Takao flattened himself to the ground.

“No, no,” said the classmate hurriedly. “I’ll give you his bag. Sure. You stay right there.”

“Thank you very much,” said Midorima. He looked at his watch. “I hope Takao isn’t late,” he observed to the air. “If he’s feeling well and can’t make, tell him not to worry. I’ll just go to his home, return his schoolbag, and see how he’s doing.”

The threat hung in the air, and the few remaining students gazed at him with horror, surprise and a touch of awe. Midorima shouldered Takao’s bag, nodded to all of them, and went to sign out the key from Nakatani-sensei.

Of course, Takao did not appear at the appointed time. Midorima waited a reasonable amount of time, and then got up and left the room, making his way to the toilets at the end of the hall. He left his backscratcher in the room as he never took his lucky item with him to do his business, and he had put Takao’s bag up on top of the cabinets which lined the back of the room. He entered the toilet, depressed the button for water from the sink, and then came back out of the toilet, ran lightly back to the room, and quite calmly closed the door behind him, trapping Takao inside.

Takao, who had been stretching up on his tiptoes to reach his schoolbag, cursed Midorima.

Midorima adjusted his glasses. “What do _you_ think you’re doing?” he replied.

“Okay,” said Takao. “I give up, I’m here, _what do you want_.”

Midorima considered his position. Takao was cowering by the back of the room, and looking hunted, lost, afraid. Midorima advanced, and when Takao would have made a break for it, grabbed Takao by the wrist, pulling him into Midorima’s body.

Takao squeaked and tried to get away, which anyone could have told him was a futile attempt. Midorima bent over and pressed his lips, which suddenly felt very dry, to Takao’s, and Takao first went rigid with surprise and then stopped pushing on Midorima’s, and because he did not respond further Midorima lifted his head and cautiously relaxed his grip. Takao did not break free, staring up at Midorima.

This was not going well. “There,” said Midorima. “That was it.”

“Okay,” said Takao, his hands still on Midorima’s shoulders. “Shin-chan, you’re sure this is not- not-”

“Not _what_ ,” said Midorima, irritated. He had discovered yesterday that he liked having Takao’s weight on him, and now that he still liked it today, moved his hands to cup Takao’s elbows and pull him closer.

“Well, you know,” he said. His hands closed on Midorima’s shirt, gathering fabric and holding on. “Just cause you’re jealous that Kuroko is taking up all of Akashi’s attention.”

“What,” said Midorima.

“You know,” said Takao. “As I say it out loud, that does seem kind of stupid, so just forget I said it.” He peeped up at Midorima, his eyes hesitant. “Unless… that’s, uh, really why you-”

“It is not,” said Midorima.

“Sure,” said Takao, tightening his grip on Midorima’s shirt. “I mean, sure, it’s you guys, it’s your business, it’s none of mine, I’m staying out of it.”

“It is absolutely not mine either,” said Midorima with conviction and moved in to kiss Takao again, which this time went much better. Midorima pulled Takao even closer, and felt a shiver run through the other boy’s body. His eyes were dark and his mouth was wet, inviting and irresistible; he was smiling again, his eyes all crinkled up.

“I thought you didn’t-” said Takao, and pulled Midorima down rather than finish the sentence, putting his arms around the taller boy’s neck, and Midorima kissed him and kissed him, until they were both out of breath and overheated, until he was sure that Takao understood exactly. Their study time, for the second night in a row, was a bust. Midorima felt quite reckless and wild.

“And for your information,” said Midorima, once they came up for air again. “I did not intend to wipe my saliva on you. I simply acted on impulse, without immediately considering the implications of my actions with regards to our relative state of intimacy.”

“So romantic,” sighed Takao. He paused. “I can’t believe you tricked me like that, Shin-chan. Who knew you had that in you?”

“I do all that I can,” said Midorima crisply. He smiled at Takao, to take the sting out of the words. “When there’s something I want.”

 

 

 

 

“Actually, just to cover all our bases here, I think Aomine and Kagami were totally flirting last night too,” said Takao.

“Of course,” said Midorima.

**Author's Note:**

> If ten times the enemy's strength, surround them; if five times, attack. For Takao's birthday.


End file.
